One man, his steps
small down the ladder, but how many hands made this one
step possible to touch moon gravel
for the first time, how many minds dreamed this
man dancing in a vacuum

a moment, the moon a bright curving
giant captured in white, shadowless.
leap, man on the moon, ghostlike on the film, skip
for the lens, sun-blinded, while
mankind watches

my mother let us stay up
to see this
me in my blue-flowered nightgown
crosslegged on the floor
her saying–remember thiswe are watching history

a three-year-old
does not understand
the significance of the man
almost floating off a ladder
walking on the moon
through television snow–
later, I will wave
to the man on the moon
every night
and know he is not that
cratered face
smiling at me
but the astronaut

What’s amazing is that I spent all day in the big city running around like a madman and haven’t returned until just now. I read your post before I learned that he had passed away, just catching up on that news now. So sad. Great poem irrespective.

What’s amazing is that I spent all day in the big city running around like a madman and haven’t returned until just now. I read your post before I learned that he had passed away, just catching up on that news now. So sad. Great poem irrespective.

I was up in the wee hours, ready for the Cronkite coverage, and stayed with it all the way. It was a dream for me, because I valued so the entire space programme.

A friend you might spot on occasion on FB, her father was in the midst of it all. She met Neil, had dinner with him in her home, so too all the others you might name. She has boxes and boxes of memorabilia. For her, not only did Neil’s loss open a window to memory of him, so too did it open to those of her father.

This… was the most significant, positive thing humans did in my lifetime. From the endeavour sprang an endless array of things we take from granted today. We need to keep our focus outward, it brings out the best in us, and we lost one of those best in Neil.

I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Her dad endured a couple of huge tragedies during his employ. IIRC, he was last out of the capsule in 1967 when three astronauts died in a fire. Amongst them was my personal favourite, Ed White. And he was there for Challenger in 1986, a tragedy what floored so many of us. Here in this state, Christa was a state hero, and her loss knocked me as hard as the loss of JFK.

Tarrant has offered to show me some of the memorabilia. The first time I visited, she had been released from the hospital the day before, and we all gathered for her partner’s 40th birthday, so no time. I will eventually!

I wonder what kind of event would serve to inspire and fascinate today, in the way that Apollo 11 did for those who saw it happening…unforgettable and, unfortunately, a chapter closed forever with Armstrong’s passing.